Eternal Requiem
by Dirgesworn
Summary: The drums of war sound once again as the Alliance rises to become the new Grand Requiem Empire under the rule of a mysterious night elf, Darithal. A story of power, revenge, and events that may change Azeroth forever. R&R CHAPTER 8 NOW UP!
1. The Waltz Begins

**Eternal Requiem **

**Chapter 1: The Waltz Begins**

"Ready your bows and wait for my command."

The drums of war have sounded once again, thought to have been silenced forever. War has laid its blanket amongst the denizens of Azeroth. Destruction ensues, chaos reigns, and no one can escape the inevitable.

"Fire!"

Arrows flew past the mighty, exotic oaks. Whizzing through the air, making their mark, striking their targets down. Many were felled, only five remained. From the brush emerged many hunters, heavily equipt with bows and black mail armor. Their races were of dwarves and night elves. They moved in on the five with their swords ready for the kill. But kill, they did not. Instead, they seized the foes' weapons, leaving them cuffed and defenseless. Among the captured were two humans, a gnome and dwarf, and two night elves.

From the brush where the hunters emerged, another came. This one was a night elf, donned with blue mail, also equipt with a bow and two nicely crafted blades. He beared a tabard across his chest piece, blue with the symbol of a white dragon. He walked before the seized, and glanced them from head to toe. Standing before one of the night elves, he spoke.

"You can not imagine the delight I feel now, foolish Tuvyn." he laughed. "Too long have I watched you, waiting for you to slip."

He turned his head to one of his attendants.

"Status report?" he asked.

"All marked targets have been eliminated and the camp has been taken for the Empire." said the attendant.

Again he turned to Tuvyn.

"Tuvyn, son of Quillian, as Arbiter Lithius, I place you under arrest in the name of the Grand Requiem Empire. And as Arbiter, I sentence you and your men to immediate execution in the halls of Stormwind Keep on charge of treason against the Emperor, rebellion against his laws, and defending the Horde in battle against the Empire. What say you in defense?"

Tuvyn spit in front of Lithius, then looked at him with hateful eyes.

"Your Empire will never remain absolute, not so long as I draw breath!" he exclaimed.

Lithius let out a hardy laugh, holding his gut in his fit of glee.

"You see, that is why you must be executed." Lithius chuckled. "Foolish Tuvyn, the Empire shall live on through the ages. And even if it ever does fall, Pantheons forbid, you shall not live to see that day."

Slapping Tuvyn to the ground, Lithius turned away and looked to his men.

"I want these traitors shipped to Stormwind in no more than three days." ordered Lithius. "They shall be executed on the dawn of the fourth day. Take this camp and all its supplies. They belong to the Empire now, so I want to see them sent to Ironforge as soon as possible. All others off duty will come with me back to the outpost."

And so Lithius made his leave with those men he ordered to come with him. The remaining hunters took their new prisoners and supplies, loaded them on their mounts of rams and sabers, and made their way out of Stranglethorn Vale and into Duskwood, where they would they enter Elwynn Forest and enter Stormwind City.

For ten years the Alliance has been an empire, the Grand Requiem Empire. Under the rule of one emperor, the Empire has succeeded in taking full control of Northern Kalimdor and most of Azeroth, branded under the name of the emperor himself. Never before has the world seen such a power as that of the Grand Requiem Empire.

The emperor responsible for this is Emperor Darithal, a night elf who once fought alongside Illidan. While Illidan was sentenced to rot in his underground prison with the Wardens, Darithal was exiled to the Twisting Nether itself, doomed to be forever tortured by the demons that reside there. But, like Illidan, he too escaped his entrapment and soon forged an Empire between the humans of Stormwind, dwarves of Ironforge, gnomes of Gnomeragan, and night elves of Darnassus. Though unexplained, Darithal has forever had a passionate hate for the Horde, and has quietly declared a full-scale war on them and their allies. While the great majority of the Alliance agreed to becoming an empire under Darithal's rule, there were others who sided with the Horde in order to return the Alliance back to its "former glory". To keep his empire in line, Darithal has designated certain power to an elite force of men whom he has fought alongside for many years, of whom he calls his "Arbiters". These warriors each control a battalion of over a thousand men, ready to obey the will of Darithal without hesitation or denial.

Meanwhile the Horde, clever though they may be, are completely oblivious to the rising power taking hold over the world. But soon they shall see what true war is. Soon they will all know their eternal requiem...


	2. Lords of the White Dragon

**Eternal Requiem **

**Chapter 2: Lords of the White Dragon**

The murky forest lands of Duskwood, filled with horrors like no one has ever seen. To the west, overlooking a vile graveyard, the ghost town of Raven Hill lay in ruin from years of decay. To the north, a vacant portal to the Emerald Dream dwelt, also forsaken by those who once treasured it. In the south, the trail to the jungles of Stranglethorn Vale was clear. And finally, in eastern Duskwood,  
the human settlement of Darkshire, bordered by the rocky regions of Deadwind Pass further east and Redridge Mountain in the north. All was quiet on the front, just outside of Darkshire. A Horde battalion had taken vacancy in Deadwind Pass, thinking that the neutral zone would easily be their's to claim. But the Emperor would never allow that, not so long as the Empire remained absolute in the Alliance.

Mounts of all variety could be heard coming down from Redridge Mountain. They wore black leather, masked in darkness. All were of the Empire, all of different races of the Alliance. Each rode the mount of their race. In front of the massive battalion, a human in dark blue leather and bearing the Empire's tabard of the White Dragon dismounted his steed. He saluted a nearby Nightwatch Guard. It was noon, but to the lands of Duskwood, it was always dark.

"We have been expecting you, Arbiter Towns." said the guard. "The Horde, though passive at the moment, seem to be advancing their way through the Pass."

"By order of the Emperor himself, the Horde of Stonard must be eliminated for their advances." said Towns. "When will they be at Duskwood's borders?"

"By nightfall, sir." the guard said.

"Excellent." muttered Towns. "Keep all your Nightwatch guards away from Deadwind Pass. My rogues will assail the enemy when nightfall comes. Afterward I shall send a runner to pass through Darkshire. Prepare him for a long journey, for he will be traveling to Stormwind, where he will call upon Arbiter Serp and his warriors to join us in the Swamp of Sorrows."

"It shall be done, sir." bowed the guard.

And like the guard said, nightfall came, and the Horde were within a stone's throw of Duskwood, though they had no intention on crossing over. But that did not stop the unseen force of the Empire surrounding their encampment. Within a few minutes notice the entire Horde camp was unknowingly trapped within their own base. They all ate at their bonfire, oblivious to what awaited them. And after moments of wait, the roguesstruck.

Town's men backstabbed every Horde they could reach. All others were slain within seconds of each other. Out of the forty rogues Towns controlled in his current battalion, none were lost in the fray. The orcs of Stonard, on the other hand, were dealt a fatal blow. None survived. And as Towns said, a runner was sent to Darkshire, where he was properly prepared by the Nightwatch and then made his way to Stormwind. As the runner did so, Towns and his battalion took control of Deadwind Pass, marking its land in the name of the Empire. His troops quietly made their way to the Swamp of Sorrows, where they would meet Serp's warriors and continue their assault on Stonard.

On the noon of the second day, a horn was heard in the distance. A scout ran to Towns, out of breath and a grin on his face.

"Arbiter Towns, Serp has entered the pass and will arrive in a matter of minutes!" he panted.

"Take your rest, scout." said Towns. "Your work is done. But tell the rest of the troop that war will ensue on Stonard upon Serp's arrival."

All the scout said was true. From the cold, barren ground of Deadwind Pass, many a mount touched new grassland and entered the swamp. Warriors dressed in black plate armor and heavy weaponry came into sight of Towns and before them was one dressed in blue with the tabard of the White Dragon. Serp and his men came before the encampment, but they did not dismount.

"We have accepted your runner, Towns." said Serp, a night elf of muscular stature. "My battalion awaits your command."

"Our forces shall act as soon as possible." answered Towns. "Most of my rogues will mount alongside your warriors, but the craftiest of them shall join me in the assassination of their runners and chieftain."

"So it shall be." said Serp. "We will allow your group to start up ahead."

Towns and five of his most clever, most crafty rogues set off for Stonard, a decent orc settlement located inthe southern area of the Swamp of Sorrow, just before the entrance to the Blasted Lands. Serp and the rest of the Empire's troop mounted and made their way to Stonard, stopping their movement just outside.

"In the name of the Grand Requiem Empire-" barked Serp to the Stonard grunts and guards. "We shall take Stonard, whether through peaceful surrender or glorious battle. What say you?"

The green-skinned orcs looked at each other and glared at Serp and his soldiers. A larger orc, much more massive then the others, stepped forward.

"Gorsham says, let them come!" grunted the orc who musthave been Gorsham. "I fear no self-proclaimed Alliance scum! Come! We will meet your armies!"

One of Towns's rogues with Serp drew his bow and fired a perfect shot at Gorsham's chest, slaying the poor orc. With this act of war, Serp raised his sword.

"For the Empire!" cried out Serp.

The rest of them also raised their weapons, and cried out, "For the Empire!" They charged the doomed town of Stonard, trampling all other orcs in their path. Orc bodies lay scattered across their path, felled by blade and hoof. After all orcs in Stonard were slain, Serp dismounted and made his way to the chieftain's hut. As he was about to enter, Towns stepped out, the chieftain's severed head held by its hair.

"Stonard belongs to the Empire now." grinned Towns. "Runner! Send word to our dear Emperor that Stonard has been defeated and taken for his Empire!"

Serp turned to both his and Towns's men, and once again lifted his blade.

"All hail the Emperor!" he cried.

The army, seemingly tireless with bloodlust, also lifted their weapons again.

"All hail the Emperor! They cried.

Meanwhile, a few days later, Towns's runner made his way to the halls of Ironforge from the Underwater Tram in Stormwind. He asked for an audience with the Emperor, and was accepted. Through those grand doors he entered, coming upon the throne of Ironforge, home of the White Dragon of the Empire, Emperor Darithal. To the right was Magni Bronzebeard,once king of Ironforge but now seated as a member of the council on behalf of the dwarves. At his side was High Tinker Mekkatorque of the gnomes. On the left sat the Arch Druid, Fandral Staghelm of Darnassus, and Lord Bolvar of Stormwind. All have become his council, all serve his every will.

Low and behold, sitting upon his mighty throne, once athrone to many dwarves of the Magni family, was Emperor Darithal. Upon him he wore white plate armor, fashioned like that of a true warrior. His embroideries were golden and fit for a true king. His helm gave way at the side for his elvish ears, and on his chest he beared the tabard of the White Dragon. His cloak was large and black like the background of his tabard and enveloped him like a blanket. From the eye slit on his helm, you could see his eyes very distant, like as if his mind was in a far off dream.

"My Emperor and lords..." began the runner as he knelt down to his knees in homage. "I bring word from Arbiter Serp the Fierce and Towns the Sly. Stonard has been taken, as you have requested."

"Good work, lad!" cheered Magni. "About time those orcs of the swamp got what was coming to them! Well done, young runner. You are free to go."

"All Horde cur will meet their end eventually. And in the same manner, if not worse." Bolvar added in. "My only concern is that traitorous Tuvyn and his crew."

"Indeed." said Fandral sternly. "That coward has made of mockery of my people and our position in the Empire. I want to see that scum's head on a post!"

"There is no need to worry..." spoke Darithal, with a clear voice, like that of a young, strong man. "Lithius has taken care of the matter. The traitor is en route to your halls as we speak, Bolvar, to be executed in the morning."

"I was not informed." blushed Bolvar in slight embarrassment.

"Need not worry of whether you were informed, for I know." said Darithal, his head, neck, and eyes still fixed so he was looking blankly into space. "Tell me, Mekkatorque, how goes the front lines?"

"As you ordered, I have sent Arbiter Kente the Brave, Xenia the Wise, and Glacier the Pure to keep South Shore safe from Tarren Mill's forces until further orders." answered the little gnomes with his high voice.

"And what of Ashenvale's defense?" asked Darithal to Fandral.

"Just as you said, Arbiter Asmeroth the Ancient and Spade the Dark are keeping the enemy forces from drawing near to Astranaar, but we have not yet assaulted the Kargathia Outpost." responded Fandral. "They only wish to await your command, and it shall be done."

"Something just dawned on me." Magni butted in. "What of the neutral parties from all over?"

"What do you mean?" asked Fandral.

"What I mean to say is there are those who may not permit us because they are as good friends with the Horde as they are with the Alliance." continued Magni. "What of the Cenarion Circle and their relations with the tauren? What of the Argent Dawn? They may fight against the Scourge, but they take in adventurers of all races. Oh! And what of the goblins?"

There was a pause, all thinking on such a matter. From past actions, the goblins, though as greedy and sly as they were, did not at all allow violence of any kind in their towns, such as Booty Bay, Gadgetzan, Ratchet, and Everlook. If there was a large enough war, the goblins would close their ports and towns in order to keep themselves safe. Shipping supplies would be left undelivered and they would blockade their own sea routes. The economy of both sides would plummet a great deal and mistrust would spread throughout the Empire. If anyone, the goblins are the most important neutral party to the Empire.

"You speak as though we are alone, dear Magni." said Darithal, breaking the deep silence. "Snivley! Come forth!"

From the doors appeared a small and pointy-nosed goblin. His skin was pale green, like the haunted sea of Azshara. He was followed by two other goblins, also small but not as ghastly. To the council's surprise, they were wearing the tabard of the Empire; the mark of the White Dragon. They came before the council, and all fell to silence.

"Snivley of Booty Bay, at your service." he said in a nasally little voice.

"What is a goblin doing here?" questioned Mekkatorque in disgust.

"Shut up, foolish gnome!" barked Snivley.

"Silence! The both of you!" shouted Bolvar. "If Booty Bay's ambassador is here, then the Emperor must have a reason!"

"Indeed..." answered Darithal in a far-off voice. "Snivley, have you spoken with your allies in Kalimdor?"

"Yes, my lord." spoke Snivley, bowing to Darithal's greatness. "Booty Bay, Gadgetzan, Everlook, and even Ratchet have sworn their allegiance to you, Emperor Darithal,and the Grand Requiem Empire."

The council was surprised, murmuring to one another in shock. Darithal raised his right hand, calling for silence in the great halls.

"As you can see, my dear council, the Grand Requiem Empire is rising greater than any other empire ever seen." began Darithal. "The goblins have become our allies, and all others will also bow to us. Our ambassadors are sending scrying bowls to the dwarves of the Hinterlands, the Argent Dawn in Darnassus, and the Cenarion Circle in Moonglade. They will all speak to me in one meeting through these scrying bowls, and they will join the Empire. Snivley, you may leave, and make the proper preparations. I will send Arbiter Lithius of the news."

"What news, my lord?" asked Bolvar.

"Of Grom'gol's demise..." answered Darithal.

The council was then dismissed for the evening, and hours later the fourth day would dawn...

**Author's Note: **While writing, I realized that not _everyone_ will know what a "scrying bowl" is. For those who don't know, a scrying bowl is a bowl of magical water that allows one to see another person and speak with them through the bowl. Just making sure everyone knows what is going on. Oh, and please R&R. Reviews help to inspire me, so if you happen to be reading this, please send a review to let me know people are actually reading it. I hope to have the next chapter up soon. Later!


	3. Only a Traitor

**Eternal Requiem **

**Chapter 3: Only a Traitor**

The sun rose on the fourth day, and the rooster crowed with a strong voice. The pearly-white pavement and stone of its foundations were filled with awe as the sun gave new light to the world. Its citizens arose from their humble household to begin a new day. But this day would be different. This day many a denizen made their way to the keep, of which a new structure was laid out. A stone platform had been crafted above the city's waterways at the entrance to Stormwind Keep. On it jutted five wooden poles, each with a man's hands tied to its top. They hung their, thoughhey werenot in pain,they wished their lives would end sooner than it would. Many spectators gathered around, seeing who they could be to receive such a punishment from the Empire. For this was the Executioner's Platform, the death placeof many traitors guilty in the eyes of the Empire.

Of these condemned men, one was a dwarf. His black beard had been cut off, just as all dwarves were if forsaken by Magni Bronzebeardand the rest of his kin. The others were a gnome, a human, and two night elves. Upon one of the night elves' chest was a mark painted in red. It was the mark of the White Dragon, a symbol that he was the most criminal of them all. Sweat and dirt dripped down from their faces. By the time dawn had finally come, a large man with a black hood stepped forward and onto the platform. In his hands we carried a savagely torturous axe of whose design was to hook and tear at its victim with great pain. The spikes and hooks on its blade made its appearance like a round saw on a gnarled staff. All cowered every time it was close, for it was one of the most brutal deaths to die by that axe.

From the keep emerged Bolvar. He approached the platform, eyeing the men who were to meet a cruel fate. Turning to the vast audience, he began to speak.

"People of Stormwind-" he began. "Before you we have the most traitorous men in all of Azeroth!"

The crowd booed and hissed at the traitors, throwing rotten fruit that splattered upon impact.

"These men have committed the most heinous acts against the Grand Requiem Empire and our beloved ruler, Emperor Darithal. Of these includes the murder of many of our imperial soldiers and guards, of whom served our empire to the end, the vandalism and destruction of imperial buildings, and the aid in Horde affairs that would do no more than benefit the vile scums' power!"

An even more appalled remark came from the crowd. Some even suggested beating the prisoners before executing them.

"Slit their arms!"

"Cut out their tongues!"

"Make them bleed 'til they cry!"

"Now, now..." said Bolvar. "You will see their bodies torn apart and fed to our dragons. For now, you will see them brutally massacred by the executioner and his lethal blade. But now you will receive a treat; the grand appearance of your master, King of the White Dragon, Ruler of the Grand Requiem Empire, our almighty and powerful leader, Emperor Darithal!"

All applauded and cheered as Darithal himself appeared before them from the halls ofStormwind Keep. His robes and armor were the same; white with gold embroideries. It shined in the sun with such brilliance, one would think he was a god at first glance. And to the people, he might as well have been. They praised him as their champion, respected him as their king. All adored him like an idol. He too stepped upon the platform, standing beside Bolvar.

"My people!" he exclaimed.

All once again cheered at his magnificence. After they settled down, Darithal turned to the traitor with the red mark.

"This sure is a surprise." said Darithal to the marked traitor. "I had no idea I would be in the presence of _the_ Tuvyn! I hope Lithius showed you to a warm welcoming here."

"Shut your mouth, traitor." spat Tuvyn. "You may have the people's praise, but they will no longer bow when they see their cities in ruin because of you! My men will kill you all, all for the glory of the once proud Alliance!"

"You called me a traitor..." said Darithal. "Yet you are the one who shall face his death because of treason. I hope you are ready. Many of your men have pleaded for a more painless death before receiving this blade into their chest. I know. I have seen them."

Darithal pointed to the axe in the executioner's hands. Tuvyn gulped at the sight. The very idea of that thing tearing at his flesh made his skin crawl.

"Do your worst!" said Tuvyn, spitted at Darithal's boots in disgust.

"Very brave for a fool." said Darithal.

Darithal then walked to the executioner and whispered in his ear.

"Be sure to save the marked one for last."whispered Darithal to the executioner. "I want to see his face as he spectates his men brutally executed by your axe."

The executioner laughed. He walked to the first traitor to the left; the human. Bolvar signaled to the executioner to hold his advance until he gave the word.

"Let the execution begin!" exclaimed Darithal.

"One!" shouted Bolvar to the executioner.

The executioner swung his axe, making his mark on the human's stomach. He wailed in pain as it went through him. But that was not the most stomach wrenching part of the assault. It was the axe leaving the body that made everyone turn from the sight. The executioner pulled the axe out of him with great strength, leaving the man speechless as to the torture that was just inflicted upon him. Breath left him, and the executioner moved to the night elf other than Tuvyn.

"Two!"

Again the executioner swung, and again it nailed the victim. This time it was the chest, and as he pulled out the axe, the night elf let out a cry that echoed throughout the streets. His scream was so loud that it seemed like his mouth expanded. But to his dismay, he was not dead.

"Again!"

But as Bolvar said 'Again', that was enough for the night elf to die from fear instead of the axe itself. With a shrug, Bolvar readied to sentence the others. The gnome and dwarf was also executed, but graphic details can only go so far. Soon the executioner was hovering over Tuvyn, of whom was horrified at the witness of his men's severed bodies and limbs. Blood had been spilled all over the Executioner's Platform, and Tuvyn was covered in red from his comrades. There was so much blood on him, infact, thatit was hard to notice the red White Dragon mark on his chest.

"Any final words, traitor?" asked the executioner to Tuvyn.

"Yes." said Tuvyn with a grin.

Then Tuvyn did a flip so he was on top of the wooden pole his hands were tied to. He loosed the ropes has he stood up there, and then came down on the executioner with great force. With one punch the executioner was out like a light. Tuvyn then took the axe and glared malevolently at Darithal.

"My final words are that you die now, Darithal!" he roared.

Bolvar went to draw his hammer, but Darithal stopped him.

"But, my lord..." said Bolvar.

"Do not worry." said Darithal. "He wants to fight me. So he shall fight me."

"But he is only a traitor, my lord." pleaded Bolvar. "I will handle this wretch myself!"

"No." insisted Darithal. "If he wishes to fight..."

Darithal then puts his hand to his back where a brilliantly crafted dual blade, almost exact to Illidan's weapon, was put away. But unlike Illidan, Darithal only had one, though that made no difference.

"...Then a fight he shall get."

As Darithal readied himself, Tuvyn made a surprising observation that took him until now to realize after much watching. Darithal has never directly looked at anyone as he spoke, almost as if they were not quite there. There was only one explanation for such lack of concentration to those hespoke to...

"This is will be too easy, you fool!" laughed Tuvyn. "You may not have noticed, but you are blind!"

Bolvar waved his hand in front of Darithal's face, but he did not move an inch. Darithal truly was blind. Bolvar was astonished by this new discovery, even more surprised by the fact that no one but Darithal knew. How could a blind night elf possible walk about like a normal person without tripping or running into anyone. It was almost as if he could see.

"At least I know it will be useless to gouge out your eyes!" commented Tuvyn as he charged.

As Tuvyn charged, Darithal did not move. Bloodlust was in his eyes. The axe was almost within reach of Darithal. But still Darithal did not move. But when Tuvyn finally did get within arms reach of him, Darithal made an abrupt vertical swipe down with his dual blade. Tuvyn dropped the axe, surprise and awe passing through him as everything around him grew dark.

"But.." he muttered. "Your blind... how could a fool like you... kill... me..."

Before Tuvyn's lifeless corpse hit the platform with a thud, Darithal withdrew his dual blade. Tuvyn's eyes were blank and his face pale. The executioner arose from his unwanted nap and dragged the carcasses off the platform and into the dragon's nest, located within Stormwind Keep itself. Darithal began to step down from the platform, and there was silence.

"Make sure Tuvyn's body is burned and placed in an urn." said Darithal to Bolvar who followed. "Because it was I who slew him, I want his urn placed within the treasury. It will make a fine trophy as the remains of the rebellion's leader and their hope for ever felling the Grand Requiem Empire."

And what he said was done. Tuvyn's corpse was burned to ash and poured into a black, skull-decorated urn where it was then placed in Ironforge's treasury. There it would be a trophy, as if the head of the rebellion had been severed and laid within its golden riches. Soon after this was done, another plan, wrought from the same mindthatbrought aboutTuvyn's demise, had been set into motion. Darithal now had his unseeing eyes fixed on Grom'gol, ready to initiate the war over all things mortal.

_And possibly immortal..._


	4. Pasts Unforgiven

**Eternal Requiem **

**Chapter 4: Pasts Unforgiven**

_They took everything from us.  
Nothing is sacred to us to anymore.  
Will forgiveness ever reach our forsaken minds?_

_Never..._

It was long ago, when the Well of Eternity was still pure. My family was so dear to me. But no force on this earth. Not the Light. Not Elune. Nothing. There was nothing I could do to save them. Those vile demons came and everything was crushed. They took everything from me. My home, my friends, and even my family. All lost to ash and flame. They tortured me. Beat me. Blinded me. When they were banished from the world, they took me with them. My old friend, Illidan Stormrage, had been locked away. For centuries I was trapped within that cursed realm. There was no way out. At least, not then. I saw I rift open, and they demons flocked to see what it was. They ignored me for a long time, long enough for me to escape. I snuck through that rift. Thrown through time and space, I was placed in a world of red sand. Around me green-skinned men with large tusks enveloped the land. They were savages and brutes. Monsters alien to me. But, then again, I was alien to this world. They marched through portals scattered across the crimson lands, fighting off what appeared to be humans on the other side.

I made a mistake sleeping in that world, for a terrible creature found me. It was much older than the others, his hair grey and in his hand was a staff. There was something essence about him. It was so similar to that of the demons that I hated him so bitterly. He cast a spell upon me with an artifact of arcane power. I was already consumed with hunger for mana after being exposed to the corrupt Well of Eternity, so this was to much. This must have pleased the old one, for he let me leave. But I could not leave. I had to destroy that orb and absorb its magic. My hunger was too unsatisfied. So later that night I stole the object and absorbed it, taking in all its power. Then I realized that these foul-smelling, warmongering, green men, these 'orcs', were imbued with those demons' powerful design of chaos and magic.

I felt so strange. Rage took me over, and when I awoke, I was on Azeroth again. Looking around, I saw I was before one of those portals. Many bodies, both human and orc, laid around my own, charred and scarred. Hate filled my mind for those orcs. They were using the powers of those who took everything from me. Now things are different. Their power is my own. The tables have been turned. Immediately a plan hatched in my head. With these powers I would bend the minds of the fools of this world. They would see my power and worship me though I were a god. A new world order would become my own, and those foul creatures would pay for their pact with such beings as the Burning Legion.

By my blade all the allies of demons shall fall. They will claim no more hopes. No longer will they look upon me as a victim. I shall use their own dark, twisted powers against them. They will grovel with mercy before I deal them the lethal blow to their kind. But that is only the beginning. All who have been in contact with those cursed demons and the allies of those will know my pain.

Through years of observation, I have marked all my enemies. The trolls of Darkspear. The tauren of Mulgore. The forsaken undead of Tirisfal Glades. The orcs of Azeroth. Even the Lich King and his Scourge will meet the receiving end of my blade. And I will not be alone. These fools of the Alliance have seen my vision of peace in this world and have agreed to accept my incredible power. Of coarse, action speaks louder than words. With my 'abilities' I have shown the leaders of the Alliance that mine is the true light! My dreams of an invincible empire will soon be realized! All things mortal will bow before my god-like might! And perhaps, once I have grasped the whole world in my hands, the Burning Legion themselves will pay for their trespasses. The journey will be long and hard. But it does not matter. With the gift of the Aspects on my side, I have all eternity...

**Author's Note:** I know I have not mentioned anything about Darithal's past, so I thought that maybe this chapter could clear things up! If there is anything I may have forgotten to mention, then I am sure it will be answered later on. I am always updating, so if you are interested in this story, you will be well rewarded if you stay interested. Until the next chapter, peace out!


	5. Wrath of the False God

**Eternal Requiem**

**Chapter 5: Wrath of the False God**

Within days notice word of the plan for Grom'gol's demise reached to Arbiter Lithius and his legion in Stranglethorn Vale. Several days after the execution of Tuvyn, Snivley traveled back to his home in Booty Bay and informed the master hunter of the Emperor's plans. Grom'gol was to fall within three days, and Lithius would not be alone. Along with Snivley came Towns and his legion of rogues, fully rested after the conquer of Stonard. And because he made sure all orc runners were slain, the Horde had no idea what became of their now felled outpost in the Swamp of Sorrows. But although they were unaware of the danger of Darithal and his Empire, there were others who took notice. The zealous Twilight Hammer and Blackrock Orcs happened to have agents within Stonard's walls during the attack, so their absence brought about suspicion. After years of hiding the Grand Requiem Empire from the world, Darithal slipped.

"Word of Stonard's destruction has reached the ears of some of our greatest foes." panicked Highlord Bolvar. "They will more than likely plan an assault on us!"

"Indeed." spoke out Arch Druid Fandral Staghelm. "The cult of the Twilight Hammer and the legion of the Blackrock Orcs have been a great thorn in our side since before the Empire was built. If it were just the Blackrock Orcs, than maybe we could defend ourselves. But the Twilight Hammer is everywhere! To subdue them until the Horde are no more would be suicide, even for you, my emperor. What shall we do?"

The council turned to Darithal, hoping that he may have the answer. The Emperor's blind eyes gazed forward, like they always did. For moments he did not say a word. The council questioned whether he even heard the question. So Magni Bronzebeard spoke up.

"Um... my emperor." began Mangi. "What shall we-"

Magni was cut off with Darithal staring straight in his direction.

"I heard the question!" barked Darithal.

"Something troubles you, Emperor Darithal?" asked the High Tinker Mekkatorque.

"The situation is troublesome." answered Darithal, recollecting his thoughts. "It was hard enough that the rebellion was against us, but now we have a second and third threat to deal with."

"If only there was some way to make one of them withdraw from us..." muttered Fandral.

Then Darithal was lit with inspiration.

"Of coarse!" exclaimed Darithal. "We shall make them fear us through example!"

All of the council was filled with confusion. What could Darithal mean? What scheme hatched within the unexplored mind of the Emperor?

"Bolvar." spoke Darithal to the Highlord. "Ready my prized dragon, Stormreaver, for flight. As for the rest of you, I want you to lead your legions to the foot of Blackrock Mountain, deep in the Burning Steppes. You will arrive before the dawn comes."

"But all of our weapon supplies have been shipped to the front lines!" exclaimed Magni. "What will we fight with?"

"Nothing." responded Darithal. "You will need no weapons. In fact, bring along miners. I have a feeling we will need them."

Though even more confused than before, the council obeyed Emperor Darithal's orders. By noon time that day Darithal took flight with his prized white dragon, Stormreaver. Immediately the council brought together as many miners and soldiers from their legions as they could. They traveled lightly, so when night fell, they had entered the red-hot lands of the Burning Steppes. Before them lay the fiery Blackrock Mountain, home to many evils and beings beyond any mortal's dreams. Dawn did indeed come, but there was no sign of Darithal. There seemed to be no activity around Blackrock Mountain, so the council led their men forward, into the mountain.

One could only imagine the horror they saw within those halls. There was not a living orc around. There were indeed orcs, but not ones among the living. Countless bodies of what could be scarcely classified as Blackrock orcs littered the floor like a plague. Fear and terror was painted upon the face of each disfigured and mangled carcase. It was nearly impossible to weave through the bodies, so the legions had to walk through it. But soon new bodies became clear, though they were not orcs.

Soon, as they came deeper and deeper into the mountain, dwarven carrion could be seen just as often as the orcs. Afterwards there seemed to be only dwarven corpses. To be more precise, these dwarves were black in complexion; the Dark Iron dwarves of Thaurissan. Now they had entered the Blackrock Depths, home to the Dark Iron dwarves. After passing what seemed to be hours of halls and vast corridors within that cursed and barren mountain, they finally came to a vast room. This room was filled with pillars lined perfectly in rows and columns. This was Lycrean, the halls of the Dark Iron. And here was even more dwarf bodies. But the further they traveled through Lycrean,  
the fewer the bodies seemed to be. When they reached the doors that lead into the cast throne room, the door was already crushed to rubble.

Along the walls were statues, beautifully crafted from onyx stone. Soon the hallway ended, and again another set of destroyed doors were seen. This time the next room ended. To the side were many corpses, some of Dark Iron, some of the Twilight Hammer, though they could only be seen as so by the way the dressed and by the fact that not all of them were dwarves. At the end of the room was two sets of stairs, each leading to one massive and amazingly crafted throne. But someone sat on that throne, the throne once sat upon by King Thaurissan. Actually, King Thaurissan sat in another place. His body could be seen at the bottom of the staircase, laying flat on his face. He too was dead.

To this mysterious character's side was a dragon, of which could be seen as white as pearls. He petted the dragon, it purring as a dragon would. The man also wore pearly-white armor. Only one person could be sitting upon that throne. Only one person could have done such a thing to countless scores of orcs and dwarves. Sitting upon that throne was the one, the only, Emperor Darithal of the Grand Requiem Empire...

"Get your miners working." spoke Darithal, his armor and tabard soaked in blood. "I want a tunnel between here and Ironforge created no less than a week."

And so did the construction of the tunnels begin. From Lycrean the tunnels were built just as wide and made exactly as Lycrean was. In other words, this new tunnel connecting Ironforge to the Blackrock Depths was a continuation of Lycrean northward, in the direction of the dwarves' snowy homeland of Dun Morough. After exactly a week of building, the tunnel was complete, and Lycrean had become the Requiem Halls, named after the empire that constructed it. Darithal was pleased, but it seemed as though we was waiting for something. Something big was going to happen, something that would change everything. Everyone in the newly inhabited mountain could feel it. And that something happened the very morning the Requiem Halls were finished.

A young gnomish scout came scurrying through the Requiem Halls, panting and wheezing from much exhaustion. Not minding any of the guard's warnings to stop and make sure his business was urgent enough, the gnome ran all the way into Emperor Darithal's new throne room, once the Thaurissan Throne, but now called the Black and White Hall, for everything in it was either black or white.

"My emperor!" he exclaimed, huffing and puffing with great difficulty. "Grave news from the foot of the mountain!"

"What is it, young one?" asked Darithal, of whom was sitting upon his throne with Stormreaver nested at his side. "What news do you bear?"

Darithal seemed a little too eager to hear, but the gnome spoke anyway.

"Vast scores of soldiers have emerged from what remains of the Blackrock strongholds and caves"  
announced the gnome scout. "They are of many different races and march in the name of the Twilight Hammer!"

Darithal immediately jumped to his feet and made his way through the mountain. By the time he had reached the entrance to Blackrock Mountain, the enormous legion of the Twilight Hammer the scout spoke of were waiting at his doorstep. They were all of different races and wore black and red in respect to the dark lord they worshiped.

"To whom would I owe this visit?" asked Darithal, acting as though they were few in number. "Who leads this army of the Twilight Hammer? Who is the one they call General Azadifury?"

"I am." spoke out an undead in the front row.

This undead, obviously of individual mind, stepped forward and before Darithal. Many imperial men were waiting at the doors of Blackrock, ready to strike should they attempt to harm the Emperor. Darithal and the undead stared at each other (though Darithal really had nothing to stare at because of his blind eyes) until the undead spoke again.

"I am the one they call General Azadifury." he said. "I and my legion come on behalf of the Twilight Hammer as a whole. Word of your power and victory over Blackrock Mountain has spread across the land and has reached my ears."

"And what be your business at my humble abode?" asked Darithal.

Azadifury then drew out his sword. The imperial guards were ready, but Darithal waved them to halt all advances. Tension grew in the minds of the spectators of Blackrock.

He raised his sword on high above his head. Snipers behind the Blackrock Mountain doors aimed their bows, ready to fire if he were to strike Darithal down where he stood. It seemed as though Azadifury was about to cut open Darithal's head, swinging it vertically down. But it did not hit Darithal. Instead, it was jammed into the stony earth beneath him. He then knelt down before Darithal in reverence. And to everyone's surprise, the entire army of the Twilight Hammer knelt as well, all in unison. There was stillness until Azadifury once again spoke, almost choked up by what he was about to say.

"We have... seen power. But none like this. In the name of the Twilight Hammer... I humbly request that we disband and merge to fight alongside you... oh mighty one."

"But what of the one of whom you have called master, the Fire Lord Ragnaros?" questioned Darithal.

"He has seen the weakness of the Dark Iron... and in turn... sees weakness in us." continued Azadifury. "Our lord... our god... has forsaken us. We are nothing without one to call us master. Please... accept us as your own. In respect to your mightiness... we have now discarded all forms of dark magic granted unto us by our previous master... so that we may better serve you and whatever power you hold to yourself."

Azadifury then shouted out, "We are yours to command, oh master!"

"We are yours!" exclaimed the army in unison.

Darithal placed his hands upon Azadifury's shoulders, and in turn spoke to him.

"Have you truly no power of demons among you? Have you completely rid yourself of what was left of your master?"

"That we have..." responded Azadifury.

"Then rise, my servant." said Darithal, beckoning him to stand. "You and your armies rise, for you are now called Arbiter Azadifury, and this your legion.

Darithal spun Azadifury, allowing him to face his legion.

"Bow in reverence!" exclaimed Darithal. "But not only bow before your new Arbiter and Emperor, but to the Grand Requiem Empire and all you have now become; knights of the Grand Requiem Empire!"

All roared and cheered. Their was emotion. Their was joy. Many hugged each other and soon took residence in their new home. Because they had lived among the charred regions of the Searing Gorge and the Burning Steppes, Arbiter Azadifury and his legion were perfect for being the imperial guards of Blackrock Mountain. And for those who wonder what became of the black dragonflight who reside in these regions, their leader, Nefarious, had led them deeper and higher into the mountain, a place known as Blackwing Lair and Blackrock Spire, where they would remain until all was safe for them again. Darithal looked from his seat in the Black and White hall at his newfound fortress.

"I do believe this seat is far too small..." pondered Darithal. "I think that another should sit upon this throne, but not I. I should sit upon the highest throne of the mountain. But first, those dragons will have to go..."

And so the sun set, and the week had ended. Shadow had fallen upon the world, and Grom'gol was in the darkest of it all...


	6. Hope Shall Always Remain

**Eternal Requiem**

**Chapter 6: Hope Shall Always Remain**

The stars flickered in the night sky. Shadows dashed across the jungle landscape of Strangelthorn Vale, a land thriving with beasts of all variety. Among these shadows were hunters, crouching down for the pounce. Hidden beneath the jungle brush, they made their way to the Horde encampment of Grom'gol. Just outside the encampment, there was much movement but little notice.

"Are your rogues ready for the kill?" asked Lithius to Towns, hiding behind much jungle away from the guards.

"Ready whenever your hunters are." responded Towns.

Towns and his rogues stealthily made their way to past Grom'gol's guards. Moving on, they remained in the shadows of Grom'gol's most prized possession; the zeppelin tower. After an unusual owl hoot was heard in the distance, the rogues snuck into the few buildings before them. Towns and three others entered the tower. Moments later, that same owl hoot was heard. This time they locked all the doors. Hearing the sound of the doors closing suddenly and locked from the inside, the guards outside were struck with confusion and fear. They had no idea what just happened, only that all the doors locked at once. Meanwhile, inside the buildings and tower, all Horde residence were slain without knowing what had just happened to them.

Back on the outside, guards were hearing the death cries of their comrades in the locked houses. They attempted to enter, but the doors and windows were also barred shut. No way in. This would mean the end of them, for a shout was heard just beyond Grom'gol's entrance.

"Fire!"

Arrows seemed to pour like water on rock from the jungle upon the unsuspecting Horde. Many perished, but those who remained alive after that wave of arrows charged at their attackers. But before they could get to the entrance, half of them were burned alive by traps that were laid out earlier. The survivors panicked, and all fell to their knees, begging for mercy. The hunters and rogues came from their hiding and walked into Grom'gol victorious.

Lithius stepped before the groveling Horde and kicked one in the stomach. The women wept and the men kept their faces stern, showing some sign of false bravery.

"Send these fools to Stormwind at once." said Lithius to one of his hunters. "I shall leave it to the Emperor to decide the fate of these savages."

Lithius then walked up the tower's steps until he reached the top, where Towns was waiting. Beside him were two goblins, the pilots of the two zeppelin stationed in Grom'gol for the night.

"Here we have Juboo and Kenoo." said Towns to Lithius. "They have agreed not only to pilot these zeppelins back to the Emperor himself as a gift, but also they wish to shall the plans of these aircrafts to the gnomes of Ironforge so that we may benefit from their engineering capabilities."

"Aye." said Juboo. "We may not at all like those little rats you call gnomes, but we shall do anything for our new Emperor."

"Good to hear." said Lithius.

Lithius then stepped to the edge of the tower, looking over Grom'gol. All imperial hunters and rogues turned to him, waiting for his word. Lithius then drew his sword above his head and shouted out to his and Towns's legions.

"For the Emperor!"

"For the Emperor!" echoed their armies.

A few days later the prisoners were shipped over to Stormwind City where they then were moved through the Requiem Halls and into Blackrock Mountain. After entering, they were sent to the underground prisons of Blackrock Depths, once used by the Dark Iron dwarves but now occupied by imperial guards. Relatively it servers the same purpose.

But while most of the prisoners were sent to the prisons, one was left. This orc, roughly stronger, older, and wiser than the rest, was summoned by the Emperor himself to Backrock Spire, of which was just recently taken over after Emperor Darithal personally took care of the black dragonflight the night before. As the guards dragged him through the corridors, the orc could see black dragon bodies still being removed from the blood-stained floor. By the time they reached Darithal's throne, Emperor Darithal had already received the news and was waiting. This throne, once sat upon by the Black Dragon Champion Drakkisath, was now Darithal's. He sniffed the air and grimaced as though he smelled something very foul.

"Is this the general you captured from Grom'gol?" asked Darithal to the guards.

The guards nodded, and they dropped him where he was just before heading for the door. Darithal waved them to leave. So the guards left, and he was alone with the defeated orc general.

"Tell me, are you the one they call General Warrek?" asked Darithal to the orc.

"What is it to you?" barked Warrek.

"Now, now." began Darithal. "You are a guest in my house. Please show some respect."

"Our brothers will come for us, night elf!" threatened Warrek with great rage. "They will crush your fortress and free us from your grasp!"

Darithal laughed. He had not laughed in such a long time. It was almost like he was waiting for this moment, to laugh in the face of a Horde prisoner. Darithal remembered how that one orc warlock had captured him, and how he laughed at his pain. Revenge had never been closer to Darithal.

"Foolish orc!" exclaimed Darithal. "You do not know what power I truly possess! I can topple mountains! Bend rivers! Turn winds! Control flames! Massacre entire governments in a matter of days! You come to me with bitter rage toward me, yet it is I who has the greater rage! I am your master, I am your ruler-"

Darithal strolled up to the orc and grabbed him by the medallion around his throat.

"-I am your god!"

The orc kept his face filled of strength, yet Darithal could see his fear with his unseeing eyes. But this glorious moment for Darithal did not last long, for he had felt the medallion's surface and gasped.

"No..."

Darithal took the medallion of the orc and let him go from his grip. He stared at the medallion, feeling its surface. It beared an elvish symbol, unknown to any other elf born before the age of Queen Azshara's reign. Blue runes skittered across its golden surface in the engravings. But what was odd was that it only did that when Darithal touched it. He felt how warm it had become. From under his tabard he pulled out a brother medallion, alike in every detail. It too had runes scattered across it, and they soon glowed a brilliant blue.

"Where did you find this, Warrek?" asked Darithal as he stroked the object.

"What? Is this a joke?" laughed Warrek.

Darithal abruptly turned to orc with hateful eyes. He rushed to Warrek and began choking him.

"I said, 'Where the hell did you find this medallion!'" he barked.

"It was a gift, given to me by Thrall!" coughed Warrek as he tried to breath air.

"Where did he get it!" barked Darithal.

"I do not know!" panicked Warrek. "At the ceremony he said something about finding it at the Battle of Mt. Hyjal, at the foot of the World Tree! That is all I know, so please, let me go!"

Darithal slowly let Warrek go and turned his back on him.

"That cannot be..." muttered Darithal to himself. "I saw you two burn... I watched as I saw you both burn. How is it that you could still be alive?"

"What is it that you are muttering under your breath, night elf?" coughed Warrek.

"Nothing of any concern to you." said Darithal.

Suddenly Darithal lifted his right and snapped his fingers. Warrek only had a few short seconds to realize that green runes appeared below him. Then from the ground erupted pillars of white hot flame. He was incinerated by the fire, dead just as soon as his skin began to burn. Darithal did not even look back at his prisoner's charred body, but continued to fell the two medallions with his thumb.

"What was once divided shall become whole again..." muttered Darithal.

The two medallions glowed an even brighter blue and then merged into one full amulet. It was golden with sapphire embedded on the outline. In the center was a larger sapphire, the same elvish symbol engraved into it. Darithal wept with the amulet in his hands. He sat hat his throne and put the amulet around his neck. Feeling it one more time, he spoke to himself.

"Perhaps all hope... is not lost..."

**Author's Note:** Hey everybody! Hoped you liked the new chapter! As you can see, I am updating quickly and listening to all reviews I am getting. As revealed in this chapter, there is more to Darithal than most readers may think (so apparently he is not all bad, though bad none the less), but he may just be going about the revenge bit the wrong way. Looking forward to your reviews! I'll be sure to get chapter 7 up ASAP!


	7. Shaken to the Core

Eternal Requiem

Chapter 7: Shaken to the Core

The Horde have proven their retaliationsto be a threat to the Grand Requiem Empire. Though they no longer hold friendly ground with the goblins of Ratchet, their forces have kept the imperial troops at bay, even when fighting a defensive battle in their own homeland. The battle bolds well elsewhere in the world though. The fabled magical power of Arbiters Asmeroth and Spade have pushed the orcs of Splintertree Outpost into Warsong Gulch, where the once-thought hopeless forces seem to hold better ground. The imperial forces hailing from the north have not yet spilled into Mulgore, for they have found trouble in the jungles of Feralas, for no arbiters were positioned there. But there is far greater reasons for hard times in Kalimdor other than the Horde's bolstering armies. The Emperor has had his eye fixed on a more 'important' target. Though the orcs, trolls, and tauren are reasonably powerful foes, he was rather intrigued by the undead of the Forsaken. And so begins a new chapter in this timeless war...

The wind howled through the rotting trees. A heavy mist lay close to the ground's cold, dry, hard soil. No light seemed to penetrate the dark clouds looming overhead, as if the land was forsaken by the Light itself. It might as well have been, for this was once the proud nation of Lordaeron, now formally called the Tirisfal Glades, home to the Banshee Queen's Forsaken, capital of the Horde's undead population.

By the dozens soldiers marched across these nearly barren lands. The sound of an army's feet echoed through the few hollow trees that stood. All were masked and marked in the name of the White Dragon. The Empire had finally arrived at their destination; the front gates of the Undercity. Like a chorus they sang their seemingly unending hymn, of which was always sung before a glorious battle:

_**From the chaos and disorder Shall arise a new order!  
We stand and we fight As our enemies take flight!  
For their future is grim With Requiem's hymn.  
So before you die,  
By fear or by sword,  
Remember we Requiem.  
ENEMIES OF THE HORDE!**_

__

Again and again they sang. A warmongering anthem it was! With this engraved into their minds they lived out the anthem to their fullest. Imperial soldiers from all over came to the regions to Tirisfal Glades; Legionnaire Azadifury and his Twilight Legion descended from Blackrock Mountain, just recently made soldiers of the Empire. Arbiter Lithius, Towns, and Serp, with their legions, hailed from their posts in the southern lands of Azeroth, ready for more combat. Arbiters Kente, Xenia, and Glacier, having guarded the conquered Tarren Mill for so long, also joined the fray.In fact, one other made an appearance at the front of the still growing armies at the Undercity's doorstep. The clouds split open, showing a ray of light from the bright sky above. From it descended the white dragon Stormreaver with his master, Emperor Darithal, at the reins. The emperor had come, further increasing the armies' already high morale.

Stormreaver landed before the armies where the arbiters all stood, waiting for their master. Azadifury the Twilight Commander, Lithius the Swift, Towns the Sly, Serp the Strong, Kente the Brave, Xenia the Magical, and Glacier the Pure all stood before their emperor. Darithal greeted each of them with open arms. He then looked to his empire, taking in a deep breath of pride.

"My soldiers!" he cried out with his arms outstretched, and they all cheered to his radiance. "Today this war shall truly begin. For long days we have crushed their armies, pillaged their homes, massacred their innocent! But I feel we have been all but too merciful!"

Again their voices rose to newfound heights as they again praised their warrior king.

"Today we shall take not only their stronghold, but their place on this earth as well!" he again spoke.

"Are you not just a little confident, Darithal?"

Darithal's blind eyes sensed a powerful presence in his midst. He swiftly turned away from his armies and faced the direction of the Undercity. Someone now stood before its gates. On his head was a black hood and in leather his body was armored. Beside him were two large, rotting hyenas, both red from much decay. He too was undead. In his hands were two swords and on his back was a finely crafted bow and quiver. Darithal knew this undead man all too well.

"Nathanos? Nathanos Blightcaller?"questioned Darithal the undead man.

Nathanos the Blightcaller, once a man of the Alliance, was one of the only humans ever to accomplish the legendary rank of ranger lord -a near impossible task. With his tactical genius, he led the forces of Lordaeron to many a victory and plunged his foes into the dust. But only recently did he, being only human, succumbed to the plague. But luckily for the Banshee Queen, he regained his mind and became one of the Forsaken.

"Darithal..." muttered Nathanos. "You disgust me with your pride."

"You have no power over me, Nathanos." said Darithal. "Retreat back to your nest in the Plaguelands where you belong!"

The hyenas growled at the emperor and Nathanos glared at Darithal with malice. Darithal then laughed at them.

"Arbiters, you know your orders. Rally your legions and strike as I have seen fit." said Darithal to his arbiters.

"Pets..." said Nathanos to his hyena minions. "Join our queen in the city. I shall handle this madman."

And so they obeyed. Immediately the dashed into the Undercity, but not without first making a final growl at Darithal.

They all assembled in their legions. Glaive throwers could be seen dragged up to the front. The glaives themselves were then loaded and ready, their blades freshly sharpened. They faced the Undercity. Nathanos looked up this and spat.

"You intend to take the Undercity with above-ground weaponry?" he laughed. "Has the once great Ranger Lord finally lost his own wit?"

"That was a long time ago... I am a greater man than any 'Ranger Lord'!"

Darithal turned to him and, under his helmet, smiled. He drew two long swords, one in each hand. His blind eyes could see into the Blightcaller's mind. They were ready to fight. The battle of Ranger Lords was about to begin.

As Requiem's armies moved forward into the Undercity, the two faced each other down. They wished to draw blood. And they did. They struck at one another directly and with great precision. Their accuracy was flawless, their defenses untouchable, their strength unmatched. The sound of flighting could be heard below them. The armies have engaged with the Banshee Queen's forces, and the battle was great. Abomination guards blocked off the way into the main core of the city. But as they fought above and below, there was another battle. Secretly, unknown to Sylvanas, Darithal's task force had just finished drudging through the cavern that dwelt just west of the Undercity. They had found a new way, an unguarded way.

As the Forsaken dealt with now two oncoming forces, the glaive throwers were slowly being pushed through the tunnel. They intending upon bringing siege weaponry underground. Insanity, maybe, but it just might work. Darithal and his rival, the Blightcaller, clashed again and again with no sign of giving in. No blood had yet been shed, but sweat was trickling down Darithal's face. Nathanos could see this through the Emperor's visor, and he laughed.

"What is wrong, Emperor?" he snickered. "Has fatigue taken hold? I suppose being undead doeshave its advantages."

"Yes..." Darithal muttered, almost as though he had just gotten a brilliant idea. And he did. "Undead have no fatigue... do they Nathanos?"

Nathanos and Darithal stopped fight, even though the battle continued beneath them. The Blightcaller, as confident as he was, could not help but frown at this. What was he up to, he wondered.

"Undead have no fatigue because they do not function as the living do..." Darithal continued. "Neither do they feel remorse, fear, or sleep... They do not even have to breath..."

As Darithal said this he stepped toward the Blightcaller little by little. Darithal smiled as he spoke, and that did not bold well for Nathanos. He drew his blades again, but Darithal just continued to step forward.

"In fact... Undeath could be very useful to me..."

Darithal then attacked Nathanos with a newfound might. Nathanos was hit had by the blunt side of the blade, knocking him down to the ground hard. He then looked over Nathanos, smiling and leering menacingly.

"I could use that undeath..."

Darithal then put his pendant to Nathanos's chest, right around where his heart would be. The pendant began to glow bright once again, and Nathanos squirmed in pain. He let out a cry, and as he did a greenish liquid began to erupt from his heart and started to fill a vial that Darithal had just drawn from his pocket. The Blightcaller gasped for breath, throwing himself into an uncontrollable convulsion. Darithal looked at his vial and smiled at Nathanos.

"Thank you ever so much for your embalming fluid..." he grinned. "This will be of much use to me..."

And just then the remaining Requiem forces stepped from the Undercity, carrying hostage Forsaken with them - including the Banshee Queen herself. She was then dropped down before Darithal, tied up and seemingly helpless.

"Well... this is surprising..." said Darithal to Sylvanas. "Surely I thought you would put up a better fight."

"If I did not, your men would have struck the core pillar with those savage glaives." muttered Sylvanas. "I had no choice."

"Oh of course you did." laughed Darithal. "You could have chosen to die with your city."

"What!" barked Sylvanas in distress. "What do you mean!"

"Did you not know? I have no use for your 'precious city'."

Darithal then looked back to the hostages being dragged to wagons, of which are to immediately travel to Ironforge.

"These 'specimens' will be all I need."

Sylvanas looked down at Nathanos and shuttered.

"What have you done to my champion?" she growled.

"The same as I am about to do to your people..."

Darithal pointed to her.

"...and you."

Though she struggled, the Banshee Queen was easily carried to another wagon and joined the others. But the Emperor wanted to see her kingdom's final hours. He wanted to see her squirm in agony before she was taken away. All his the wounded and unwounded had evacuated, so now was the time.

"Initiate." ordered Darithal.

The sound of glaives firing echoed below them. Stones bursting, gravel erupting. All this could be heard below their feet. And, before their very eyes, the surface of Lordaeron sank into the Undercity, crushing everything below. What Sylvanas had spent so many years to do had finally been undone. The Undercity was no more. Darithal could now only mount Stormreaver and relish in hearing the once proudBanshee Queen's despairing cries fade off into the distance as she and the others were taken away...


	8. Nine Tribes, One Fate

Eternal Requiem

Chapter 8: Nine Tribes, One Fate

The jungles echoed with the sound of critters and beasts. A kaldorei, stealthed underneath the brush and canopy of Stranglethorn Vale, made his way east, far beyond the Venture Co.'s construction and machinery. As the thickets became more scarce, more ruins could be seen, hidden from the sun by the tall trees. Eventually the jungle came to an almost sudden pause, and before him was the city he desired to find. Putting away his sword, he strolled up the tall and wide stairs. After ten meters up, two troll guards stood waiting for him having seen his approach.

"Stop where you be, mon!" shouted one to the night elf.

The Kaldorei that emerged from the jungle was fitted in white plate armor, embroidered in gold. A black and white dragon was his symbol, but his weapons were not drawn for a fight.

"We see where you be, elf!" barked the other troll. "I am a champion of the Skullsplitter clan and he of the Bloodscalp! You no stand to us with yer fancy trinkets and wish safe pass!"

"Oh, I think you will make an exception of me." said the night elf cooly.

"And what makes you think tat, mon?" laughed the two trolls.

But just as soon as the spoke, the Skullsplitter troll fell to his knees in searing pain. His head was decapitated, and his arms broke in different angles. The Bloodscalp troll looked down at his fallen comrade in fear and turned to the night elf. His mind went into bloodlust, and he lunged at him with axes in each hand. His eyes flared red in a fit of chaotic rage.

"Ah... just what I need..." said the Kaldorei.

Just then the Kaldorei jumped above the Bloodscalp's assault and landed on his back. Before the troll he held up a pendant of blue runes. From the troll came forth a dark green gas that poured into a bottle the night elf had secreted under his armor. The troll lay where he once stood, twitching and turning in agonizing despair.

"Do not worry yourself, troll." he said to the Bloodscalp. "Do not believe you will be scared for life. You will die in only a few minutes."

The Kaldorei turned away from him to walk up the stairs, but then turned around again to face him one last time.

"Oh, and by the way, thanks for the mojo, baby." laughed the night elf.

He then continued to ascend the stairs, until he entered the ruins. All around him adders, trolls, crocodilisks, and wind serpents roamed. Across many bridges and pathways he could see a temple that seemed to touch the sky. In front of it he could make out a huge, serpentine figure lurking. After journeying all the way into Strangethorn Vale, he had finally made it into Zul'Gurub.

A large, titanic troll of the Gurubashi tribe suddenly came toward the Kaldorei in anger. He lashed out at him, but he dodged and cut him down with only the daggers he drew a second sooner. He feel down at his feet, but because of it more came. He cut down every last one of them. He fought all the way to the first bridge. But as he fought, he noticed some smarter trolls cutting the ropes that held the bridge over the ravine below. They cut it, and he along with a few other helpless trolls fell down into the waters below. And waiting for them were hungry crocodilisks belonging to the Zulian tribe. The trolls that fell with the Kaldorei were devoured before they could swim to shore, but he was left unscathed. He swam to shore faster than any troll could, and behind him he tossed a glowing light that exploded in the water. Everything that dwelt in it - the crocodilisks and that near-devoured trolls - all evaporated in a flash of light.

He continued to make his way to the vast temple beyond. But first he had to deal with its guardians. Many beasts and trolls came at him. The serpents of the Sandfury tribe, the crocodilisks of the Zulian tribe, the spiders of the Razzashi tribe, the wolves of the Vilebranch tribe, the blood drinkers of the Witherbark tribe, the axe throwers of the Bloodscalp tribe, the warriors of the Skullsplitter tribe, the berserkers of the Gurubashi tribe, and the priests of the Hakkari tribe. The entire Gurubashi Empire charged him, but to no avail. Like the trolls from before, they all submitted to his god-like might and tactics. No one could touch him.

At last, the main bulk of Zul'Gurub's defense was wiped out, and the mysterious Kaldorei made his way slowly to the temple that lay not too far. The remainder of the trolls cowered behind the trees and bushes as he confronted the massive serpent that made the temple its home. A massive creature, serpentine and covered with blood-red scales and feathers. Its wings spread long and mighty, its sleek, snake head hissing at the intruder.

"Mortal..." hissed the feathered serpent. "What power possessesyou to trespass into the domain of the Bloodflayer?"

"You give yourself too much credit, Hakkar." laughed the night elf. "Your end is near, blood god, and your zealot's mojo shall be mine to control."

Hakkar hissed and bobbed his head back and forth. His eyes burned crimson blood, and his wings spread their full length. His tail lashed out at the night elf, but missed him slightly to his right. He did not flinch, did not budge. He just stood there. Hakkar looked at him with a grin only a serpent like him could bear.

"You act as though you have courage, child of Elune." said Hakkar. "But there is a fine line between courage and stupidity. Not even your moon god will save you!"

"I have no god..." spoke the night elf.

The feathered serpent attempted to strike him with a head blow, his fangs beared. The night elf dodged, and so Hakkar swerved around and right back at him. He dodged again, but this time he had jumped to do so, soon landing on the blood god's head. The night elf, mustering powerful arcane power within his very fist, thrust it into Hakkar's head. Hissing and wailing though he was, the Bloodflayer could not shake him off. From where he embedded his hand, the Kaldorei slowly pulled out a sword from Hakkar's head. StillHakkar screeched, but still he continued to pull the sword from his head. It was long and massive, exactly the night elf's height. It was silver and had a emerald gem placed toward the end of the long blade. Its aura pulsed with the blood god's power. The few trolls that decided to watch the fight were slowly burned alive in the presence of the mighty sword. At first it began with one, but then another and another. Soon the only trolls untouched by its destructive tribulation were those who fled into their housings and temples. Finally the sword had been completely pulled from Hakkar's head, but the blood god was not yet dead.

The night elf jumped from Hakkar's head and landed before the snake. He hissed mightily as he recollected himself. Again, ready to attack, Hakkar dove at the Kaldorei with all his might. The Kaldorei held the blade high above his head and struck at the blood god's left wing as he just barely moves out of the way. Having thrown off balance, Hakkar stumbled and swirled around like any wounded serpent would. For the first time in ten thousand years, the might Bloodflayer was bleeding. How ironic.

"That sword..." wailed Hakkar. "How can the sleeping destroyer be reborn onceagain? Such is only the will of a god!"

"Well, your looking at one." said the night elf. "I am Darithal, Emperor of the Grand Requiem Empire, soon to be the God of Tribulation!"

Hakkar's eyes grew sharper than ever and his crimson scales turned slightly paler.

"The White Dragon?" he hissed. "I have heard of your efforts. You may be able to conquer the Horde, but you shall never destroy a true god!"

"I do not intend to." said Darithal as he readied the massive sword. "Your essence is all I need."

Hakkar made one final strike at Darithal, but he was ready. As Hakkar swooped down,  
Darithal dodged and sliced off the blood god's head. The sword absorbed Hakkar's blood like a sponge to water. Soon the body was dry and empty. A wind picked up and blew the remains into dust that was gracefully swept away. The sword now glowed a more sinister, crimson aura. As he felt its power flow through his very being, one could here his troops barging into Zul'Gurub and capturing theremaining trolls as they wept for their fallen god.

"Do not fret." Darithal said. "You shall be used for 'suitable' needs, as will your felled god."

He lifted the sword with his right hand and looked in awe.

"The sleeper has awakened..." whispered Darithal. "Finally, the Destroyer of Worlds is mine to control! Let thewhole world know..."

_...Zin'rokh has been reborn!_


	9. Explanation Chapter

**Explanation on Story**

First off I have to mention that this chapter is to clear up about the fan mail I have received and will only be up until the next chapter is up. So far many of you have said I am being too cheap with Darithal being so godly. And you know what, you are right. That is, your right to a certain degree. Just to clear things up so I don't lose some of you guys as my fans, I had the whole plot in my head since I wrote Chapter 1. I would just like to ask all you Horde fans to be a little patient. There is more to the story that has yet to be revealed, and trust me, you will never see it coming (I mean it, don't even try to guess). So just sit back and enjoy the ride. I promise you, by the time I have the final chapter up (unless I never stop) you will love this story.

_P.S. -I have played Horde many times on World of Warcraft and have beaten Warcraft 3 (both Reign of Chaos and Frozen Throne), which is why I am making sure this story will not be left unsatisfied._


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